


Broken Pieces

by Lush_Specimen



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Fixing broken friendships, Gen, Past Torture, Prowl is bad at relationships, Spinister has a crush on Fort Max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-06 02:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14632020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lush_Specimen/pseuds/Lush_Specimen
Summary: Prowl decided to stay on Luna 1 to try to repair his friendship with Fortress Maximus.  Too bad he has no idea how to go about it.  When Max has to investigate a disturbance Red Alert discovered on Garrus 9, Prowl invites himself along.Taking place after Lost Light #15 and alternating POV between Prowl and Fort Max.





	1. Mixed Signals

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this right after LL#15 as a way for the Luna 1 crew to meet up with the Scavengers. Also to serve as a catalyst to have Fort Max and Prowl revisit Garrus 9 and come to some kind of understanding.
> 
> Then LL#17 came out and this whole thing is way out of line with canon. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I already put a lot of work into it so, posting it anyway!

Prowl wandered the halls of the Luna 1 Titan base sipping energon from his favorite mug, bright green emblazoned with large purple letters #1 BOSS. It was a gift from Hook. Everyone keeps telling him that ‘it’s not about factions anymore’ so no one should care that he keeps in touch with the Constructicons, but someone always gets upset if it comes up. Strolling past an open door, he found his three companions deep in conversation and stopped to listen. Anyone else might call it eavesdropping but he called it recon. 

“Are you sure?” Fortress Maximus templed his fingers and looked across the table at Red Alert and Cerebros.

“Look, Max, you know me. I check and triple check everything, by default. I really went above and beyond my normal levels of scrutiny on this data and got the same results every single time. Then I went to Cerebros and had him review all of my calculations just to be sure. Don’t ask me to check it again.” Red Alert folded arms across his chest.

Fort Max deeply vented out, “So let me get this straight… a rhythmic disturbance of indeterminate origin is emanating from deep inside, sometimes sounding completely random but other times resembling a distinct distress signal.” 

Red just nodded. 

“You don’t have to go,” Cerebros reached out and tentatively laid a hand on Max’s forearm. “Me and Red can handle this one ourselves.”

“No!” Fort Max snapped, louder and sharper than he intended. Struggling to master his tone, he buried his face in the palms of his hands. “No,” he sighed, “as the new enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, it’s my job to investigate any anomalies in restricted areas. I could never send another bot to do my job… especially there. I would however welcome some company.”

A shadow fell across the three bots seated at the table. Prowl sidled into the room and leaned against the door frame still sipping energon from his #1 BOSS mug. “So, where are we going?” he asked.

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Max responded shortly without turning around.

Undeterred, Prowl craned his neck to look around Max’s broad shoulders at the maps and data reports scattered around the table. “Oooo! Garrus 9! I hear it’s lovely this time of year. How come I wasn’t invited to this little vacation planning party?” Prowl took an obnoxiously loud sip of energon, and focused his piercing blue optics on Fort Max. He knew he should let it go, but he couldn’t help himself. They had tiptoed around this issue long enough. 

Red Alert and Cerebros exchanged a nervous glance. Everyone knew that Fort Max suffered terribly at the hands of Overlord in the three years he ruled the old prison, desperately hoping for rescue that Prowl never sent. During the last days of the war, he couldn’t spare any bots on an ill-fated rescue mission, a fact that no one else seemed able to comprehend. After all, it’s not like he planned to abandon an old friend to torment and death.

Max slammed his hands flat on the table, “Prowl, look, I welcomed you to stay here on Luna 1 with us, but this is something else. You stay here. I am going to do my job.” He kept his tone even but his engine started to rev loudly.

“Fine. You do that.” Prowl took another sip of energon as he locked optics with Fort Max. “This time, try to make it back in less than three years.”

“That’s IT!” Max roared. He leapt to his feet knocking over his chair with a clatter and drew back one massive fist, poised to punch Prowl in the face. Red’s optics widened and Cerebros grabbed on to Red’s arm in shock. For a bot of his enormous size, Fort Max could move with amazing speed. Prowl didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, casually leaning against the door frame, mug still in hand, almost daring Max to strike him.

Max started to tremble. He towered over Prowl and drew back his fist a little farther, the rumble of his engine the only sound to break the tense silence. As Max began to shake violently all over, he dropped his fist and stormed out with a yell. The loud stomping of angry footsteps culminated with the vicious shriek of rending metal and the report of several rounds of cannon fire.

“I hope that wasn’t important,” Red muttered as he got up to follow Max, roughly bumping into Prowl as he left the room. Even after Red shouldered past him, Prowl’s expression remained unchanged.

“What is wrong with you?!” Cerebros shouted as Prowl righted Max’s chair and sat down to review the data charts. “He could have killed you!”

“I had the situation under control,” Prowl replied, downing the rest of his energon in one gulp without bothering to look up at Cerebros. “Besides, he wouldn’t have killed me, especially not with the upgrades the decepticons made to my frame.”

“But you have to know about the kind of things that he went through. You’re Prowl, you know everything. To say something like that, it’s just wrong.”

“That’s the point,” Prowl replied coolly as he shuffled the maps and Red’s calculation charts. “He’s angry, I get it. The sooner he can just get it out of his system, the sooner we can all move on.”

“Wait…” Cerebros started, “you were trying to get him to hit you? Look, Prowl, relationships don’t work that way. Things are never that simple.”

“Please, no one else understands the truly complex nature of life like I do. I can track 800 moving objects at a time. Everything I do is at least ten steps ahead of everyone else. You may not have noticed, but I don’t have time for long drawn out arguments, too inefficient.”

“Prowl, getting your friends to beat you up is a terrible plan.” Cerebros replied, folding his arms.

“Whatever, I can deal with it because it works. Either they hit me and are satisfied and we never speak of it again, or they hit me and feel too ashamed to ever speak of it again. Either way, the issue is resolved and we all move on.”

Cerebros dragged a palm down his face, “Has that ever worked? I mean really.”

“More or less, lots of times, most recently with Optimus.”

“Optimus! What did you do to him?”

“First of all, I didn’t do anything. Optimus stumbled across some of my covert strategies for keeping the autobot cause alive and thought they crossed too many lines. Long story short, I forced him to combine with me to form the gestalt Optimus Maximus, then he threw me out a window.”

“What’s a little defenestration between friends, right?” Cerebros stifled a laugh, “Sounds like your plan worked great. I guess you’re only vacationing here with us, lightyears away from Cybertron, because you like the company.”

Prowl just glared at him.

“Regardless of how you try to deal with your problems, I don’t want you to antagonize Max like that again. He is my friend and I will not let you hurt him anymore.” Cerebros said firmly. Prowl regarded the small bot with a new appreciation, impressed with his protective loyalty.

“You haven’t been paying attention, I never hurt Max. That was Overlord, and he’s long gone. The last reports of his whereabouts say the Lost Light jettisoned him into space and blew him apart with their heavy artillery.”

Cerebros deeply vented out then reached across the table to take Prowl’s hand. Prowl tried to pull away, but he held fast. “Look, Prowl, you might be able to track 800 moving objects at a time, but even Whirl has a better grasp on friendship than you. I am going to attempt to explain something so even you can understand. Max is angry, but in addition to that, he is hurt. Hurt that you knew Overlord tortured the scrap out of him on Garrus 9 and you did nothing. You were supposed to be his friend and you abandoned him.”

“I couldn’t spare the resources,” Prowl yanked his hand away. “The autobot cause trumps all individual cases, and we needed every available bot on the front lines at that time.”

“Here’s the thing, the most important part of the autobot cause is autobots.” Cerebros kept his blue visor focused on Prowls piercing optics. “Max wouldn’t like me sharing things he’s told me about his experience, but you need to hear it because you genuinely don’t understand. When Overlord first took over the prison, he beat Max to the brink of fade out, again and again.”

Prowl returned his attention to the reports strewn across the table. He read the Wreckers’ files from the raid on Garrus 9, he knew Fort Max endured three years of torture. The gory details were irrelevant. He needed to focus on the present. 

“Despite his own immense size, Overlord totally outclassed Max in pretty much every category. I mean he was a phase sixer. The only defense that Max had… was you.”

That got his attention. Prowl looked up from the signal triangulation data, “What are you talking about? I was never even at Garrus 9.”

“You didn’t have to be. Your reputation preceded you: Prowl, the great tactician, Optimus Prime’s right hand law bot, ruthless, dedicated, and all-knowing. At first threatening Overlord’s followers with your name alone was enough to get them to back off. Max told them that you knew what was happening, that you would send a rescue team, likely the infamous Wreckers, to wipe them all out. He believed it himself, with all the light in his spark. But as days turned into months and months stretched into years, Overlord weaponized Max’s one last hope and used it against him. When he strapped Max down and began to remove his limbs one piece at a time he told him that you didn’t care and no rescue was coming, that Max didn’t matter to…”

“ENOUGH!” Prowl shouted. That couldn’t be true. No way Fort Max, or anyone for that matter, relied on him that much. Cerebros must be trying to wind him up and unfortunately it worked, probably some kind of retribution for hacking off Max just now. Although, he might be right about one thing, Prowl was attempting to resolve an issue with insufficient data. Sloppy, impulsive, probably a result of Scavenger’s influence. “I don’t need you to lecture me. I’ll deal with Max once he cools down.”

“He’s a person, not a problem, Prowl. You don’t need to ‘deal with him,’ you need to talk to him.”

Prowl looked down at the empty mug in his hands. He never had this kind of trouble with the Constructicons, they always knew exactly what he was thinking and usually loved it.  
_______________________________________________________________________________

Fort Max rumbled along in tank mode, heavy treads scraping the tarnished armor plating of the shoulder of the titan where they made their home. Ashamed at how he reacted, he just needed some time to compose himself. He shouldn’t have raised his hand against Prowl, and he definitely shouldn’t have stormed out to punch an armored access door clean off its hinges in one blow, and he absolutely shouldn’t have then blasted said door with a barrage of every last weapon bristling his frame. Rung would probably tell him to stop mulling over shoulds and shouldn’ts and focus on what is. Out of habit, he tried to call Rung’s personal comm frequency. Although he knew no one would answer, the crackling static still disappointed him.

He halted at the edge of the titan’s shoulder and enjoyed the sound of his own engine. When Overlord first took him hostage, he welded an inhibitor claw to Max’s t-cog, trapping him in bot mode. Sometimes after a nightmare, Max woke up in his alt mode having transformed during recharge. Since he never endured any tortures as a tank, it just felt safer. The instant access to all his anatomical weaponry didn’t hurt either.

Looking up at the dim stars visible in the perpetual twilight on Luna 1, Max deeply vented in and out. He knew that in his own horrendously awkward way, Prowl was trying to bring up the subject of Garrus 9. They used to be fairly good friends, police chief and prison warden, two bots dedicated to the law. Max felt his engine purr as he recalled one evening when Jazz invited them both out on the town to celebrate his promotion. They discovered very quickly that neither one of them could hold their engex. After only one drink they were both drunk off their axles, each attempting to assist the other home until they passed out in a heap and someone called Optimus to come and get them. Jazz laughed so hard, he still teases them about it to this day. Memories like that made the fact that Prowl never sent a rescue cut even deeper. Max understood Prowl had to consider and weigh tactical risks, but discovering where he fit on that scale really hurt.

After shooting several innocent blue and purple bots on the Lost Light, Max tried extra hard to get a handle on his Garrus 9 issues. Talking with Rung helped more than he ever thought it would. Since they lost radio contact with Rodimus’ crew, he even started sharing some of his experiences with Cerebros and Red. Still, talking about Prowl is infinitely easier than talking to Prowl. How do you talk to an old friend who knew you were trapped in a terrible situation and decided that you weren’t worth the risk to save?

Lost in thought, Max didn’t even notice the quietly approaching vehicle until Red Alert parked beside him. Not one much for words, Red just sat there idling in his alt mode offering unspoken support.

“I almost killed him,” Max finally sighed, breaking the companionable silence.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get him next time,” Red deadpanned.

Max snorted at Red’s exceedingly dry sense of humor and then shifted back into bot mode so Red could see his smile as he said, “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny,” Red replied as he followed suit and also shifted into bot mode.

“Ok, fine,” Max conceded, “but just a little bit.”

Red Alert started to chuckle and Max found himself joining in. “Oh Primus! Now I feel bad for laughing about that.”

“You think too much,” Red replied, “and trust me, I know a thing or two about overthinking.”

Max threw an arm around Red’s smaller shoulder, “Thanks for coming out to check on me. Sorry about the door. We should probably fix it before we go.”

“First of all, Prowl should fix it since it is his fault. However, we could have Outrigger and Beak fix it while we’re gone. I already called them back to base and told them to scavenge a replacement on their way. It’ll give them something constructive to do instead of creeping around dead titans all day.”

“He calls it titaneering,” Max added helpfully.

“Whatever,” Red rolled his optics, “it’s still weird.”

Max didn’t like all this talk about leaving, especially because he knew where they had to go. Personally, he hoped to never see Garrus 9 ever again, but he had to investigate the signal. Maybe someone ventured in looking for salvage and got trapped, or maybe it was a trap. Thinking too much again. 

“Let’s get the shuttle ready, the sooner we get moving, the sooner we can come home. I’m really looking forward to putting this mission in my rearview mirror.”


	2. It's Pronounced Scavengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Luna 1 crew heads to Garrus 9 to investigate the strange signal. 
> 
> Prowl tries to be supportive while Fort Max rescues the Scavengers.

Cerebros piloted the shuttle through the atmosphere on their final approach to Garrus 9. Prowl sat at the small desk in the back reviewing the maps while keeping an eye on Fort Max. Red Alert tried to convince Prowl to stay behind but there was no way he could let those three come here alone. Besides he had his own private reconnaissance mission planned.

Max had gone silent awhile ago, transfixed by their approaching destination through the window. When the prison first came into view, Prowl noticed Max hug his arms around himself and heard the subtle yet distinct whine of an overheating vent fan. Prowl got up quietly and placed a tentative hand on Max’s back, hoping his solid physical presence would help dispel any waking nightmares. At first Max shuddered under his touch, but to Prowls’ relief he then seemed to relax as he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. 

“Thanks, Red,” Max sighed without turning around.

“For what?” Red called from the armory.

Prowl winced and quickly tried to return to his seat before Max caught him.

“Prowl?”

Scrap! Too late. Prowl found himself caught in the light of Max’s red optics, bright with surprise but also something else. Relief? Hope? Why are emotions so confusing?

“Max… I,” Prowl started. I what… I’m sorry? I did what I had to do? I won’t let anything like that ever happen to you again?

Max cocked his head to one side, “What?”

“I… ” Prowl struggled to find the words. “I… have a plan.” Prowl felt a stab of shame as he took the cowardly way out. After his conversation with Cerebros, he resolved to stop antagonizing Max. Unfortunately that was how he usually dealt with his problems. He decided to try talking to his old friend, but he just wasn’t sure how. To his surprise, Max smiled as he seemed to guess at least some of his thoughts. Prowl hastily turned away.

“As I was saying,” he coughed without looking at Max again, “I think we should split into two teams. The signal is originating from this area, closest to this rear access door on the side of the cliff.” Prowl pointed out the locations on the map. “There’s not enough room the land the shuttle there, but you could enter the complex through that door. Then the remaining members could land the shuttle in the courtyard at the front of the complex and enter the building to turn on the backup generators for the electrical systems. Operational lighting should make the investigation a little easier.”

Max mulled over Prowl’s plan. Part of the plan that Prowl didn’t explain was that he was trying to keep Max from having to enter the complex through the front. When Overlord first took over the facility, he disabled Max’s t-cog, savagely beat him, and then threw his helpless frame to an angry prison mob gathered in that courtyard, the beginning of three horrific years. He might have failed to rescue him the first time, but he could at least protect Max from having to relive some of his trauma.

“Hmmm… I actually like it,” Max replied. “Only, I want someone on the shuttle the entire time. I need to know that our way out of here is secure, for… personal reasons. I will take Cerebros with me through the access door. If this disturbance does turn out to be a distress signal, we might need his medical expertise. That leaves you and Red.”

“Red’s a better pilot and, I know from personal experience, a better shot. He should stay and guard the shuttle. I’ll go and turn on the power, then come back out to keep him company. I’m sure he will be thrilled,” Prowl deadpanned.

To his surprise, Max actually chuckled and playfully elbowed Prowl in the side, “I know Red can be a little tough, but he grows on you. Kinda like someone else I know.”

Prowl looked up a Max, shocked at how happy that comment made him. Maybe there was still hope for their friendship. He had been trying to patch things up with Max, but his usual tactics have proved ineffective. Maybe Cerebros was right, maybe he did need to talk to him, or maybe he actually needed to listen. One thing was for certain, he still needed more information and he had his own loose ends to tie up. After this mission, they would talk, or whatever they needed to do.   
___________________________________________________________________________________

Max and Cerebros jumped from the hovering shuttle on to the narrow ledge by the access door. 

“Alright, I’ll keep the comm system open, but we’ll likely lose signal once you go inside. Garrus 9 has various defenses in place to interfere with outside communications. When you’re done, either return to this location and call for evac or meet us out front. I will remain at the shuttle controls the entire time, no matter what.”

“Thanks, Red,” Max replied, checking his weapons for the hundredth time. He tried not to watch as the shuttle climbed up into the low cloud cover.

“Just you and me now,” Cerebros said as he struggled to pry open the door.

“I sure hope so,” Max muttered as he entered his personal key code and the door easily swung open. A cold darkness seemed to roll out of the gaping doorway and gather around his feet. Max shuttered his optics and tried to concentrate, do your job, just do your job. Maybe this was a mistake, he wasn’t even in the building and he could already almost feel Overlord’s hands crushing the sensitive cables in his throat.

“Max?” Cerebros asked tentatively.

“This is… a little harder than I anticipated,” Max admitted.

“It’s okay. We’ll go together, put you hand on my shoulder and I’ll lead the way.”

“Thanks,” Max forced a smile, gripped his friend’s tiny shoulder and together they entered the gloom. Although Prowl promised to restore the lights, Max really didn’t need them. He served as warden here for 600 years before everything went south and knew the entire prison layout like the back of his hand. Although maybe not these hands, his limbs had been torn off and replaced multiple times over those three years, and Max had no idea where First Aid scrounged the parts to rebuild him. With so many replacement parts, Max drew strange satisfaction in the knowledge that Overlord never actually touched most of his current frame. 

Soon the narrow maintenance hall opened up into the north cell block. They needed to get to the opposite side of this block and take the stairs down to the maximum security area. Max didn’t mention it to the others because it made no sense, but he had a feeling the disturbance was coming from Grimlock’s old cell. 

“Doin’ okay?” Cerebros asked. Max winced, his voice echoed so loudly in the oppressive darkness. 

“Yeah,” Max lied. None of this was okay. With the infrared filter on his optics he could make out dark blotches of old energon stains on the walls and floors. How much of that belonged to his guards? Or the hapless prisoners that just wanted to get out of Overlord’s way? Worse, how much was his?

The distinct sound of a slow fluid drip broke the silence with a rhythmic cadence. Max desperately tried to block out that noise. The leak was probably from a burst pipe, but all Max could hear was the slow drip of his own energon as it ran down his rent armor and hit the floor over and over again, during the three months Overlord pinned him to a wall by driving steel beams through both of his shoulder joints for having the audacity to fight back.

“Come on, let’s move a little faster,” Max urged Cerebros, using every last ounce of his willpower to keep from bolting. 

Having successfully traversed the entire cell block, they arrived at the lift tower. Suddenly all the electrical devices crackled to life. After the deep darkness, the lights burned both of their optics. Max smiled, so Prowl did make it to the main generators. He attempted to contact him, but the interference disrupted communications. Oh well, he could thank him later. Somehow, having the lights on helped Max relax a little. Prowl always followed through with his plans, but it only helped if you were part of them.

“Hey! With the power back on we can take the lift,” Cerebros began playing with the elevators’ control panel.

“No thanks,” Max shuddered. “The last time I was in that lift, I was in at least five separate pieces.”

“Oh… Primus! I’m sorry... I mean, let’s take the stairs! All ten flights of them. Yay,” Cerebros added in mock cheerfulness.

“I can carry you if you got something against a little physical activity,” Max teased.

“What!? No! Although, if you are serious, I would not refuse the offer.”

“Come on,” Max lifted the smaller bot and took the stairs several at a time. “I told you, you need to get out of the lab more often.”

“Yeah, yeah, but exercise is just so much work.”

Max smiled, the functioning lights and the inanity of their conversation really helped him stay in the present. As they descended the stairs he began to pick up the noise Red described with his own audio receptors. They are getting close. If he could just keep focused on anything other than his last three years in Garrus 9, maybe he could actually do his job and get out of here in one piece.

When they reached the maximum security floor, Cerebros hopped down and motioned for Max to stand back. He opened the stairwell door first and carefully scanned the hallway.

“Okay, the coast is clear,” Cerebros waved Max on, “and the sound is definitely louder here.”

“What was all that just now?” Max asked, he found the whole mission commander routine super endearing.

“It was me, securing the area, obviously,” Cerebros replied, looking very proud of himself. “Don’t let my small stature fool you, I worked for Prowl. I know a thing or two about covert missions.”

“Okay commander, lead the way!”

“Don’t start with me, cadet,” Cerebros deadpanned in a fairly accurate imitation of Prowl, jabbing his finger at Max’s chest. “I’ll have you demoted.” 

When Max started to snicker, Cerebros doubled down on his impersonation, “What’s black and white and better than everyone else? Me, of course! I can track 800 moving objects at a time and 799 of them are various ways of you screwing up! Now get me a table so I can flip it over!”

Max burst out laughing and Cerebros quickly joined in. “Primus!” Max sighed as he regained composure, “That was so perfect and so wrong at the same time.”

“I am available for parties,” Cerebros said with a flourishing bow.

Suddenly the noise which had been randomly tapping along in all different intervals, changed to a distinct distress signal, three short thumps, three long, three short, over and over again.

“Do you hear that?” Max asked as they came to a stop outside of Grimlock’s old cell.

Cerebros nodded. They had finally reached the origin of the sound. Max armed all of his weapons and if he could have opened the door in tank mode be would have. Instead, he pounded of the heavy door three times, hard enough to leave small dents.

“Anyone in this cell, please stand clear of the door!” Max yelled in his most authoritative warden voice. He keyed in his personal override code and released the locking mechanism. All weapons at the ready, and Cerebros by his side, Max slowly eased open the door. 

“YOU?!” seven bots, including Max shouted simultaneously.

Cerebros, who had somehow edged his way protectively in front of Max, pointed to the six decepticons huddled in the corner, “Do you know these bots?”

A wave of relief washed over Max as he lowered his weapons, “I sure do. Cerebros, these are some of the best bots you’ll ever meet.”

A large pink and purple helicopter got up and looked around confused, “I think you must have us mistaken for someone else.”

“You call yourselves the Scavengers, right?”

“It’s pronounced Scavengers.”

Max laughed which seemed to confuse the helicopter further. “Before you tell me how you got yourselves trapped in the most secure room in the galaxy, I need to say two things. First, I want to apologize for my behavior during our last encounter over the whole affair with Demus on Tebris VII. I jumped to several very wrong conclusions and for that I am truly sorry. Second, I owe a great deal of thanks to Spinister.”

“Me?!” the helicopter cautiously backed away.

“It’s okay, Spin,” said a genericon with a ridged silver face plate, “That’s a good thing.”

“Your note on how to reverse the domestication allows Cerebros here to save every single one of the beastformers,” Max offered Spinister his hand. “Even after I reacted so harshly to you, you still took the time to write out detailed instructions. You saved a lot of lives that day. Thank you from the bottom of my spark.”

Spin regarded Max’s extended hand with suspicion. The genericon took it instead and gave it a vigorous shake, “See, Spin, totally fine. Now you try.”

The helicopter approached and gently took Max’s hand. For such a large, rough looking bot, he had a very delicate touch. Max smiled and shook his hand, which, despite his initial trepidation, seemed to really please Spinister.

“Krok! That was amazing!” Spinister said in a whisper meant for his friend but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “And I didn’t feel like shooting him even once!”

That last comment caused Cerebros to edge in front of Max again.

“Krok! Krok! Krok! Krok!” The pink jet that started bouncing the second Max opened the door could now barely contain himself.

“What, Misfire?”

“Can I do introductions? Please, please, please?”

The genericon dragged his palm down his face, “Let’s just get out of here. I need to give my audio receptors a break after listening to you and Spin drum on the walls for days.”

“That was Nickel’s idea,” Misfire crossed his arms and pouted. 

“And it worked just like I said it would,” the teal minibot piped up. “That is why you came looking, right?”

“Yes, it just took us a while to pinpoint the signal,” Max nodded. “Besides we read all of your Autopedia entries. You bots are quite the team.”

Misfire snickered and elbowed Fulcrum who tried his best to ignore him.

Max decided to lead them toward the front entrance. If they stayed on the lower levels until further on, they would bypass the rooms Overlord used as his torture chambers. He wanted to get out of the building as quickly as possible, after all, his job was only half complete. 

“Okay,” Max said as he led his rag tag band through the guard halls, “Two questions: One, how did you lot end up in the most secure cell in the galaxy and two, where is Grimlock? You had promised to look after him”

“Both answers are related,” Krok began as Misfire shot him excited glance. “Go ahead, Misfire,” he sighed,” you can tell the story, but try to keep on track.”

“Yes!” Misfire exclaimed with a fist pump and twitch of his wings. “Okay, so back when Grimmy was still with us, we were running from Deathsaurus’ crew being pursued by Dr. DJD herself, Nickel other there, when a portal opened up in front of us and we all got pulled in. Agonizer was there and he talked a lot then offered us a job to retrieve the Magnificence from Flame. Unfortunately Flame was with Scorponok which was really bad for us.”

Max exchanged a sideways glance with Cerebros, still hovering right beside him and shrugged. Misfire just kept going, rambling through numerous details at a rapid pace. Trying to keep track of his story required all of Max’s attention, which kept his mind from wandering.

“Remember when you told us Grimmy ran when you were… uh… detained here by Overlord. Turns out, he didn’t run at all. Scorponok took him. He has a magical door that opens on his ship directly into Grim’s cell, which incidentally is how we ended up in there.”

“What?” that detail got Max’s attention. “Why would Scorponok take Grimlock and since when does he use magic?”

“Geez! Impatience much! I’m getting there!” Misfire huffed. 

“Just get to the point already,” Crankcase grumbled as he tripped over a mass of broken cables.

“As I was saying, Grimlock, for some reason was guarding the Magnificence in his chest and Scorponok wanted it. Basically he tortured the scrap out of him for years until… he just… broke, in every way possible.”

Max winced. He knew what that was like. Now he felt guilty about fighting with Grimlock during their last encounter. Great, he owes the dinobot an apology too. Why does everything he does anymore feel like it ends in an apology?

“Scorponok convinced Grim we were the ones who hurt him so he ripped off Spin’s arm and beat the scrap out of us. I saved the day through the magic of friendship, Nickel figured out how to fix Grim’s brain, and, once he reattached his own arm, Spin did the surgery.”

“What?” Spin asked upon hearing his name. Max jumped, when did Spinister get so close behind him? The helicopter could move with remarkable stealth for his size. 

Misfire continued unfazed, “Needless to say, Scorponok was super hacked off because we stole the Magnificence and was totally gonna kill us all. Grim tossed us through the magic door to save us but stayed behind like the stupid self-sacrificing autobot hero he is, so now we need to go save him. Also there is a giant purple baby now.”

“So much trouble,” Spin muttered. “I don’t even like Grim that much.”

“If you don’t like him, why go through so much to help him, especially after he hurt you?” Cerebros asked.

“Because he’s my friend,” Spin stated very matter of factly. “Just because you don’t like someone doesn’t mean you’re not friends.”

“Actually, I think it does.”

“No. Look, Grim is Misfire’s friend,” Spin held up one finger. “Misfire is my friend,” he held up a second. “So I am Grim’s friend,” he held up a third. “The math checks out. You can’t argue with equations, they always win.”

Max shook his head and smiled. He wasn’t sure if this conversation was ridiculous or profound. Spin did have a point, the bond of friendship could survive a lot. Something tugged in his spark and he tried, unsuccessfully, to reach Prowl over the comm link.


	3. Too Much Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl hacks into the Garrus 9 security cameras and discovers how bad things actually were for Fort Max. Meanwhile, Max leads the Scavengers through the prison to find them a spare ship in the hanger. 
> 
> Shenanigans ensue and Spinister has a crush on Max!

Prowl hopped off the shuttle and headed for the main entrance to the Garrus 9 prison complex. Armed with only his standard issue police pistol, he scanned the facility and found no life signs, mechanical or otherwise.

“Be careful, Prowl,” Red Alert called after him, arms folded leaning against the open door of the shuttle. “Parts of the building could be structurally unstable. They don’t call your team ‘the Wreckers’ for nothing.”

“Please,” Prowl smirked, “I am always careful.”

“Yeah, yeah, but before you tell me how many objects you can track, know that it only takes one to ruin your day. We’ll lose the comm signal as soon as you enter the building so you’ll be on your own.”

“I’m sure that if anything terrible were to happen to me, you would mourn with all the appropriate dignity that I deserve.”

Red laughed, “Personally, I might break out the triple distilled Camien engex that Swerve sent me, but Max, not so much. For some reason, he still likes you. Guess there’s no accounting for taste. Just turn on the lights and get your black and white bumper back here as fast as possible.”

Prowl waved over his shoulder and stepped over the twisted and broken doors to enter the infamous prison. Debris littered the floors and black blaster burns peppered the walls and ceilings. Navigating his way around the ruined hallways, Prowl stumbled into a larger room. Illuminating the area with his headlights, he noticing the far wall streaked with energon and two deep punctures in the plating fairly high off the floor. It appeared something, or someone, was pinned to that wall at some point. Prowl shook his head and continued, Overlord had an unsettling flair for the grisly and macabre. 

A few more twists and turns and he found the main generators for the building, which amazingly sustained minimal damage. After bypassing some burned circuits and giving it a swift kick for good measure, the system hummed to life. Prowl flipped the breaker switches to provide power to the lights and computer systems. Efficiency hovered around 60%, but that should be more than enough to provide a little illumination for Max and Cerebros. 

Completing his part of the official mission, Prowl turned to his personal agenda and headed towards the prison command center. He hoped the prison’s security systems would provide some missing details regarding Max’s experience. Optimus Prime might not like to admit it, but the success of every mission hinged on the strength of proper intel.

Prowl grimaced as he navigated the ruined corridors. Maybe he should have left the lights off. The brightness illuminated the devastation and cast dark shadows everywhere. Distracted by an unnervingly large energon stain , Prowl tripped over an object that upon investigation appeared to be a tattered chunk of old tank tread, the exact same pattern that Max used. The fuel churned in his tanks, and he hurried on.

Crawling through a ragged hole in the wall, Prowl found the command center in significantly worse shape than he had hoped. Although he came to gather information, he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to check on the rest of the team. He set a data stick to download all available files then ripped open the central console and began rapidly reconfiguring wires in a desperate attempt to restore the prison’s own comm system.

The image of Max’s tank tread haunted him as he worked faster to get the communications system up and running. Prowl analyzed every visual detail instantly and he didn’t like the results. The uneven edges of the cut are indicative of a reciprocating blade, but the small scorch marks mean that it was used on a very low power setting so as to jam repeatedly, causing excruciating pain. The size and splatter pattern of the spilled energon suggests that multiple such cuts were made to a very large frame. 

The final wire connection sparked and Prowl ignored the burns on his fingers as he eagerly tried the comm system, “Max? Max, are you there?” Prowl cringed, he didn’t mean to sound so anxious.

To his immense relief, the speaker crackled to life, “Prowl? Is that you?”

“Yes!” Prowl took a moment to regain his composure before continuing as coolly and professionally as possible. “Thought I’d get the comm systems working while I’m here. You know, to make sure everyone is okay.”

Suddenly a chorus of chatter erupted over the speakers.

“Oh Primus! Did he say Prowl? The Prowl?! We are in so much trouble!”

“Misfire, you’ll be in even more trouble if you don’t be quiet!”

“I can’t help it, I have a gift.”

“I’ll gift you!”

“Everyone, please!” Max yelled. “Prowl, first of all, thank you for getting the lights on and the comm working. As you may have already guessed, I found the source of the signal, some bots trapped in Grimlock’s old cell. The Scavengers…”

“It’s pronounced SCAVENGERS,” someone interrupted.

“I could have sworn that was how you pronounced it last time,” Max muttered before continuing. “Anyways, I’ll fill in the details later but long story short, they need a ship. If the prison’s inventory system is online, please check the hanger bay logs. We always kept several types of craft on hand.”

“Hold on,” Prowl said as he searched for the information Max requested. “According to the system, the hanger and all the various vessels are still intact.” That’s strange, why didn’t Overlord destroy anything his hostages could use to get away? Prowl pondered several possibilities, when someone else, the talkative one, just asked, “Why didn’t Overlord destroy all the ships?”

“As an act of torture,” Max sighed. “He would drag me over there once and a while and rub my face in the fact that the means to escape were right there, but I was powerless to reach them.” All of the other chatter ceased and Prowl found himself leaning closer to the speaker. “Once, I summoned every last reserve of strength after weeks of energon deprivation and managed to slug him right in his smug face. I paid for that act of defiance severely for the next three months, but that look of shock as he wiped his own energon off his chin almost made it worth it. Almost…” he trailed off.

“Anyway,” Max coughed, breaking the silence, “Prowl, call Red and tell him to move our shuttle closer to the hanger. We might need his help starting one of the ships. Then head over there yourself. I mean it, don’t go poking around longer than necessary.”

“Affirmative,” Prowl replied as he quickly notified a disgruntled Red Alert of their new rendezvous point. “Max, are you certain about this route? You could go back the way you came in. When I leave this console, we’ll lose comms again.”

“It’s okay, I’ll be okay. This is the most direct way out from here. Thanks again, it was good to talk to you, even if only for a few minutes. Be careful and see you soon.”

Where does Max get off telling him to be careful? He’s the one that planning to walk through the devastated hellscape of his worst nightmares. Prowl contemplated various possible responses. Since he couldn’t decide on how to best express his concern while being supportive, he went with, “Yeah, Sure,” and shut down the comm system. 

Before leaving the command console, Prowl collected the data stick that he set to download as soon as he entered the room. Although corruption caused quite a bit of data loss, the prison’s surveillance systems still recorded masses of images over the past several years. Now that he had a copy of all the prison’s data in his hands, he drew his weapon and fired several shots into the main console. The circuits sparked and smoked from the blaster fire, burning away all traces of the data recorded during Overlord’s occupation. The orange glow of smoldering computers lit Prowl’s satisfied smile as he recalled something Optimus once told him, ‘don’t concern yourself with what you have failed to do, instead focus on what it is still possible for you to do.’ He might not have rescued Max the first time, but he made sure no one would ever be able to access any data from the prison for any reason ever again.

By his calculations, he had some time before Max led his party to the hanger. Prowl searched the ruined offices for one working display monitor. Finding a less damaged guard’s office further down the hall, Prowl plugged in the data stick and began sifting through the files. He started by searching for videos with his name in the audio. To his surprise, he got a lot of results and brought one up at random.

Despite the poor quality of the video, Prowl could easily make out Max fighting six or seven frenzied terrorcons in their beast alt modes. Prowl frowned, Max was in deplorable condition, right leg mangled, deep gash in his side slowly leaking energon, missing part of his left hand. Despite the horrible wounds, he held his own, knocking his attackers away time and time again. Prowl fiddled with the audio until he could hear bits of their conversation.

“Hope you bots can keep up,” Max huffed, “cause I can do this all day.”

“We’ll see about that,” growled a large bot with a two headed lizard alt mode.

“Please do,” Max rumbled with a touch too much bravado. “I want to remember each of you specifically for when Prowl sends in a team to straighten out this mess. He’ll send the Wreckers to carve a path through anyone stupid enough to hurt his friends.”

“Wait,” the large shark-like bot called his companions to halt. “Prowl knows about this?”

“Of course, Prowl knows everything. He’s probably watching right now” Max replied with such confidence that Prowl felt his spark flicker. “If you bots knew what’s good for you, you’d get out of here while you can.”

The terrorcons huddled in conference too far for the recording to make out their deliberations. Max struggled to stay upright, Prowl could see the barely concealed pain written on his face. Every minute detail in the grainy footage stood out in sharp relief to Prowl: the dim light in his optics indicating extremely low energon levels, the subtle whine of an overheating vent fan, extensive internal injuries made obvious by the way his armor plating twitched.

“Overlord told us to have our fun,” hissed the two headed lizard bot. “With the prospect of retribution, our fun has been diminished. Remember this mercy when Prowl sends for you.” 

Then all the terrorcons turned and left Max alone in the room, the heavy crash of a locking door like a nail in the coffin. Max leaned his back against the wall and slowly eased himself down to the ground careful not to aggravate any of his numerous wounds. He put pressure on his side, energon slowly oozing up around his fingers, and turned his optics to the ceiling in the direction of the surveillance camera. Prowl felt uncomfortably like Max was looking right at him across time as he sighed with spark crushing weariness, “Come on, Prowl. Where are you?”

Prowl rubbed his optics with the heels of his palms. Cerebros was telling the truth, Max did rely on his ruthless reputation as a defense mechanism. On one hand, Prowl felt a wash of pride in that the decepticons realized and feared his commitment to the autobot cause above all else. On the other hand, he really let Max down.

Checking the data files again, he chose a recording with a later date stamp. Overlord filled the screen, he had Max strapped to some kind of table. Primus! Max was already missing his entire left arm, fresh energon glistening all over the floor.

“You must know by now no one is coming for you,” Overlord gloated as he examined some type of bladed weapon, turning it over and over in his hands before dragging the flat of the blade across Max’s armor making a horrible scraping sound.

“Yeah, well, I don’t see Megatron rushing to your side either,” Max rasped, voice ragged from extreme use. “I guess we’re both a lot less important than we thought,” he added bitterly.

Prowl shuddered. It wasn’t that Max wasn’t important to him, it was just that… what? Other things were more important? Even if the total war effort trumped individual cases, hearing Max say it with such resignation twisted the knife he already felt in his spark.

“Perhaps,” Overlord drawled, “But I am being ignored, you are forgotten. Your beloved Prowl has weighed your life against the tactical risk and found it worthless. No one cares about you at all. In fact, they’ve all decided that you are simply not worth the effort. How does it feel to endure all this knowing that any rescue attempt has already been deemed a waste of resources?”

The look of devastation on Max’s battered face cut Prowl to the core. The worst part was Overlord wasn’t entirely wrong. Although Prowl did care about Max, he also considered the amount of resources required for a rescue and decided against it. He even kept the information about the situation on Garrus 9 hidden from Optimus so he couldn’t attempt any of his trademark self-sacrificing heroics.

Prowl ripped the data stick out of the console before Overlord could plunge that blade into Max again. A terrible realization dawned on him, Max must hate him. How could he not? He felt foolish for even trying to continue friendship, there was no fixing this. He stared at the tiny data stick in his palm, the only remaining record of Overlord’s rule of Garrus 9. Red Alert was right, it only takes one small thing to ruin your day.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________- 

After confirming that the hanger still contained several ships, Max led his talkative party through the winding hallways of the old prison. Cerebros stayed close to his side chatting with Nickel about the finer points of brain surgery while Misfire regaled anyone within audio range about his stays in various jails. Spinister hummed a song that he seemed to only half remember, following along near enough that if Max stopped fast, he would bump into him. Max smiled, after being alone for so long, he really enjoyed all the eccentric company.

He slowed his pace as the reached an armored security door. He knew what they’d find inside. A large magnetic recharge slab likely still draped in chains and splattered with his energon. If he wanted to get to the hanger from here, he had to make it across this room. He knew Prowl was attempting to get him to change his route before they lost contact, but this was the fastest way out. Max absentmindedly reached out and felt a rush of relief when Cerebros instantly grasped his hand. Okay, just do your job.

Max kicked open the door and shuddered to find everything exactly as he sees it so often in his nightmares. He pointed to the door on the far end of the room, “We need to go that way.” Focusing on that door alone, Max didn’t even bother to look around, every horrible detail of this room was burned into his memory, even when he wished he could forget. 

Just as they passed the halfway point, an eerie sound echoed down one of the branching halls that lead back towards the command center area. The rational part of Max’s brain told him that the sharp metallic scrape was probably due to a piece of corroded paneling falling off of the ceiling to clatter loudly on the floor, however the distinct sound brought Max right back to that recharge slab. Restrained by exceedingly powerful magnets and anchor chains, Max couldn’t move as Overlord towered over him, carving off pieces of his armor plating and casually dropping them on the floor. The constant clanging rang in his audio receptors. He dealt with the intense pain but that sound almost sent him over the edge.

Max felt his t-cog engage before he even realized it. He barely registered Cerebros warning everyone to stay back as he transformed into tank mode and fired volley after volley towards the source of the noise. Strangely, he heard someone else transform a split second after he did. A rush of wind washed over him as a second round of cannon fire ripped across the room. The deafening roar of exploding ordinance resounded down the hall followed by the metallic screech of collapsing structural supports.

Max idled, listening to his pinging sound of his overheated gun barrels cooling, enveloped by the gentle downdraft of a purple attack helicopter hovering protectively above him. Unfortunately for anyone not directly below the helicopter, the prop wash from Spin’s rotors kicked up a maelstrom of debris.

“Spinister! What the hell?!” Misfire yelled through the tumult.

“Providing air support,” Spin replied, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

“I’m sorry,” Max offered another apology. “I just…”

“I’m not!” Spin cut him off, “Sometimes you just have to shoot something. Did we get it?”

“I… I hope so,” Max stammered, a little taken aback by Spinister’s unapologetic direct manner. He began to rumble along in his alt mode, “but I’m not sure you can shoot nightmares.”

“You’d be surprised!” Spin replied cheerfully as he continued to hover directly over Max, perfectly matching his pace forward. “If you try hard enough, you can shoot almost anything!”

They made the rest of the way with not further complications, Max and Spin in their alt modes with everyone else struggling to not get blown away. Spin flew along with Max, humming bits and pieces of that same song, unconcerned as tips of his rotors sparked against the narrow walls. When they finally made it out of the prison to the hanger, Max shifted back to bot mode with Spin instantly following suit. Crankcase ran ahead to evaluate all the possible options and select a ship while Max limped towards the office that stored the launch keys for all the ships. Spending an extended amount of time in his alt mode caused some old injury to his right knee to play up. As he tried to shake out the kinks, he noticed Spinister on all fours, optics locked on his knee. When did he get so close?

“Does it hurt?” he asked with surprising concern, looking up at Max, head cocked to one side.

“Umm…” Max hesitated. After so many extensive repairs, it didn’t feel right to complain about a minor inconvenience, but since he asked, “Sometimes, after I transform, it just aches, like my knee is going to lock up, so yeah, it hurts, but not all the time. It’s okay, I just deal with it.”

Spin sat back on his heels and tapped his deep blue face plate with one finger as if deep in thought. “Good news!” he finally exclaimed. “I can fix it! Right, Nickel!”

Nickel rolled over and conferred with Spin. “He’s right, the support struts in your right knee aren’t calibrated correctly. It’s a common mistake. Since medics are usually smaller…”

“That’s racist!” Fulcrum hollered from across the hanger.

“Ugh!” Nickel rolled her optics and flashed Fulcrum a rather obscene gesture. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted,” she glared at a giggling Misfire, “when a medic lacks the experience of repairing heavy weights such as yourself, they usually don’t set the shocks stiff enough. Spinister here is an extremely talented surgeon, he could recalibrate your struts in no time at all.”

Max flexed his fingers and bit his bottom lip. Letting someone operate on him, here of all places, definitely made him extremely uncomfortable. Still, it would be nice to get rid of this pain once and for all. Every time it hurt, Max could feel the terrorcon sinking his fangs into his knee and rending it to shreds. “Okay,” he cautiously agreed, “as long as I stay awake the whole time.”

Spinister hopped up, practically radiating excitement.

“I found him!” Crankcase yelled from across the hanger. “Behold, Mighty Spaceship!”

“What makes you so sure it’s a him?” Nickel yelled back.

“I dunno,” Crankcase replied, placing his hands on his hips and carefully inspecting the courier class cruiser. “Do you think it’s a her?”

“Good choice,” Max replied as he retrieved the launch keys for that ship, leaving the rest of the Scavengers to debate the gender of their chosen vessel. Courier class vessels were heavily armed but build for speed by maximizing weight distribution and aerodynamics. That type of ship definitely had the speed and firepower to back up the ridiculous name Crankcase picked. While in the office, he activated the switches to open the main hanger doors, happy to see his own shuttle and Red tapping his foot impatiently right outside.

Rejoining the others, Max tossed Crankcase the keys, “Give it a good once over before take off. Red, help Crankcase with the preflight inspection. Cerebros, I need you here. Spin is going to fix my knee.” Red gave him a confused glare which Max answered with a wave, “It’s a long story.”

“Can you really just give us an autobot space cruiser?” Krok asked, arms folded across his chest, skeptical of anything that seems too good to be true.

Max shrugged, “Since I was never officially relieved of duty, I am still acting warden of Garrus 9, meaning I can allocate supplies and equipment as I see fit. I can’t think of a better use for Mighty Spaceship than for you to use it to rescue a friend. No one should get left behind.”

While the Scavengers and Red Alert began preparing the cruiser for launch, Max sat down and leaned his back against one of the landing struts. Cerebros knelt by his side, “Are you sure about this?” he whispered. Spin cheerfully hummed the same broken tune as he closely examined Max’s knee. Max just nodded and reached for Cerebros’ hand again.

“Is this going to hurt much?” Max asked.

“Umm… I’m not sure.” Spin replied as he delicately ran his fingers along Max’s knee, probing the edges of an access panel with a gentleness incongruous with the ferocity he displayed earlier. “It depends on how much it hurts now. Like, if it already hurts a lot, then this will make it better.”

Before Max could respond, he felt a sharp twinge and then nothing, the pain had completely vanished. “Are you done already?!”

Spin nodded, “How does it feel?” he asked eagerly, reaching out to grab Max by both hands and pulling him to his feet.

Taking a few tentative steps, Max smiled, “Amazing! It doesn’t hurt at all anymore!” He transformed into tank mode and back twice, and still no pain. “Thank you so much!”

“It’s the only thing I’m really good at,” Spin mumbled, practically glowing. He seemed to be having some kind of internal argument. Suddenly he straightened up and looked Max right in the optics, “Why don’t you come with us?”

Max halted abruptly from joyfully hopping around on his newly pain-free leg. Just when he thought today couldn’t get any stranger. Over the years most of his interactions with decepticons usually with death and destruction.

“Spin!” Misfire hopped down from checking over the wings of the ship, “You can’t just ask the first strong, heroic, ruggedly handsome, crimson-opticed autobot you meet to join us.”

“Why not?” Spin asked without a hint of guile or mockery in his voice, “You did it.”

For the first time since they met, Misfire was at a loss for words. Fulcrum, on the other hand, doubled over in raucous laughter, “He’s got you there!” Misfire quickly recovered and pounced on Fulcrum.

Crankcase crawled out of the rocket engine, face drawn down in a deep scowl, “Now what?”

“I think your buddy over there,” Red gestured to Spin and Max with his thumb, “is sweet on my friend.”

“Bah!” Crankcase grumbled.

“What’s the matter, you don’t approve?” Red asked defensively.

“Don’t mind him!” Fulcrum cried out, struggling to extricate himself from Misfire’s headlock. “He’s dating a dire wraith and they haven’t had much time to get together lately.”

“A DIRE WRAITH?!” Red exclaimed, optics wide. “Aren’t they the ones with all the eyes, and the arms, and the tongues?” he added, making a face and waggling his tongue for emphasis.

“Yeah,” Crankcase replied flatly, wiping the grease from his hands with a rag. “You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not,” Red regained his deadpan demeanor. “I just thought all decepticons were racist organi-phobes.”

“And I thought all autobots were self-righteous gear sticks.”

“Well, at least one of us is wrong,” Red smirked and reached down to help Crankcase to his feet. 

“Heh,” the faintest ghost of a smile tugged at Crankcase’s mouth.

Suddenly, the rest of the Scavengers froze, even Spin turned around. Misfire dropped Fulcrum and rounded on Red Alert, “What did you say? Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!”

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Red stammered as the pink flier attempted to shake the answer out of him.

“I’ve never heard Crankcase laugh so hard in my entire life! I have to know what was so funny.”

Crankcase disentangled Misfire from Red, “He doesn’t have to tell you anything. If you can’t be bothered to pay attention, then you don’t get to know.”

“Oh come on!” Misfire whined.

“That’s enough!” Krok interrupted. “The ship is checked out, loaded up, and ready to go. Let’s go get Grim.”

The mention of Grimlock got Misfire’s undivided attention. “Yes!! Finally! We’re coming, buddy!”

Spin still waited for Max’s answer. Max contemplated telling him no, that he had a job to do, but truthfully, he really enjoyed the Scavengers’ company. Besides, there was no reason business and pleasure couldn’t overlap.

“What the hell, why not,” Max replied. When Cerebros and Red turned to him in shock, he just shrugged, “Scorponok has been on Ultra Magnus’ most wanted list for years. This is as good a chance as any to finally put an end to his nonsense.”

Spinister was so excited he transformed into a helicopter and flew one lap around the entire hanger. Max laughed as he shifted back into bot mode and landed lightly beside him. 

“Red, tell Prowl to get the shuttle ready,” Max said.

“Actually…” Red hesitated, “Prowl hasn’t come back yet.”

“What!?” Max and Cerebros exclaimed at once.

“He told me to meet you here and that he’d be along, but he never showed up.”

“I thought he was guarding the shuttle this whole time,” Max began to worry. He tried to reach him on the comm to no avail. “We’re going to have to go look for him, he probably got lost in there. He always hated field work.”

“Friends, am I right?” Spinister shrugged, appearing right behind Max again. “Nothing but trouble.”

Max jumped. How does he keep doing that? He had a feeling that he may have just acquired the world’s deadliest shadow. If he’s going to be hanging around with the Scavengers, he might have to put a bell on Spinister. 

“Come on, Spin!” Misfire called from aboard the ship. 

“But Max might need air support,” Spin yelled back.

“Oooo! It’s ‘Max’ now is it?” Misfire cooed.

“What? That’s his name.” 

“Technically, it’s Fortress Maximus,” Fulcrum piped up.

“Technically, we need to get moving!” Krok grumbled. “I’m sorry, Spin, but we really do need to go. We’ve already been stuck here for too long. I know Grim is tough, but…”

“Spin, your friends need you,” Max laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “And my friend needs me.”

Spinister’s shoulders drooped for a second but he quickly recovered. “It’s true. They would be lost without me. And your friend is already lost without you.” Taking out a small note pad, Spin jotted down some numbers and handed it to Max. “This is my personal comm frequency. I would really like to shoot things with you again sometime.”

Max accepted his note shocked and a little flattered. It was such a strange thing to say, but somehow sort of sweet. On an impulse, Max took the pad from Spin and wrote a note of his own. “You know what? I think I’d like that too. Here’s my personal frequency.”

Face slightly glowing beneath his face plate, Spin received Max’s note like it was the most precious thing in the world. He then waved shyly, shifted into helicopter mode and flew the short distance to join the rest of the Scavengers in the ship. Excited chatter erupted as soon as Spin transformed back into bot mode and boarded the ship. Max buried his face in his hands as he heard Spin shout, “Guess what, Krok! I got his number!” Mighty Spaceship fired his, or did they decide on her, engines, leaving Max to wave goodbye with Cerebros and Red.

The ship flew quickly out of sight and Cerebros playfully elbowed Max, “That decepticon totally gave you his number!”

“Yeah,” Max replied wistfully, still watching the clouds for any last glimpse of the ship, “and his name’s Spinister.” 

Red watched the shuttle fly out of sight and shrugged, “They’re a strange group, but Crankcase is okay I guess.”

Max nodded, “All those bots are a little…unique, but I like them.”

“Of course you do,” Red said with a grin, “you collect weirdos like that.”

“What the hell, Red!” Cerebros put his hands on his hips. “That says more about us than him!”

Max chuckled and put a hand on each of his friends’ shoulders. “Come on then, I’m one weirdo short. Let’s go complete my collection and get out of here.”


	4. You Look Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max's and Spinister's weapons volley caused part of the prison to collapse and unbeknownst to them, Prowl was caught in the cave in.
> 
> Later, the Scavengers check in.

Prowl came back online slowly, it was pitch dark and everything hurt. His mind raced to try to piece together what had happened. He remembered watching some of the surveillance footage. While he was still contemplating the last remaining copy of the data in his hands, a noise like rolling thunder began to rumble beneath his feet. He realized the danger too late and only made it a few steps before the entire floor collapsed in a cacophony of shrieking metal and crumbling stone.

Buried under tons of rumble, Prowl tried to move and let out an involuntary gasp. A piece of rebar speared straight through his mid-section, fortunately missing his spark casing. The twisted remains of the command center pressed in on him from all sides. Energon leaked from one of his crushed door wings. He managed to get his arms beneath him and braced himself, using his shoulders to push upwards. His struggles only caused the debris to shift slightly, putting more pressure of the rebar currently skewering him. Crying out in pain, he stopped. This is why he hated field work, too unpredictable.

Prowl checked his internal chronometer, quite a bit of time had passed since he last talked to Max. Someone should have realized he was missing by now. Unless… they had already left. That thought crushed him worse than the ruined remains of the prison hallway. Max should have led his merry band to the hanger a while ago. The route he planned to take skirted the area of the collapse. In fact, he might not even know the damage occurred. Max already did his job, he investigated the signal and evacuated some hapless trespassers. Prowl wasn’t even supposed to be here, and after the little footage he saw, he couldn’t blame Max for not coming back to look for him.

Although his current situation looked pretty grim, he still pondered what caused the structure to cave in. Prowl heard explosions from below. Maybe when he destroyed the main console, he set off some kind of chain reaction. Ultra Magnus told him that one day he would be crushed under the weight of the consequences of his actions. Prowl allowed himself a bitter smile, he never expected it to happen quite so literally. At least he could appreciate the acrimonious irony of the entire situation, here he was hopelessly entombed in the same place where he abandoned Max.

Trapped in the darkness, his mind wandered to the first time he met Max. Years ago, before the war, Prowl was just another rookie cop assigned to the night shift. Somehow, Prowl still suspects Jazz, a ferocious turbo fox got into the precinct. He alternately chased it and ran from it for hours until it hunkered down under his desk, snarling and snapping. Prowl recalled hearing that the new night warden had an affinity for animals and at this point was desperate enough to try anything. When Fortress Maximus arrived, Prowl worried he had made a terrible mistake. Max towered over Prowl and red optics glaring as Prowl explained the situation. To his surprise, Max just laughed and gently coaxed the savage creature out from under the desk. Before long it curled up in his massive arms, totally relaxed, and he promised to release it back outside. 

Struggling to shift into a position to relieve the pressure on the piece of debris that impaled him, Prowl felt like that stupid fox. He wandered into a place where he had no business being and couldn’t escape on his own. In a moment of weakness, he wished Max would come and get him out of here, but he quickly pushed those hopes away. 

Still trying to determine the best way to move some of the debris, Prowl discovered that the data stick was still within reach. He grasped the small black rectangle, the only surviving copy of everything recorded during the last years of Garrus 9. After a brief moment of contemplation, he crushed the thing to dust, no one else had a right to this information, not even him. 

The total darkness must be causing his systems to malfunction. He could have sworn that he heard someone calling his name. Through all the rubble it sounded so very far away. There! He thought he heard it again. Either he was full on hallucinating or someone was looking for him.

“Prowl! Haul your black and white chassis out here right now!”

That sounded like Max! Even after, well, everything, he still came back! Prowl tried to call out but choked on all the dust. His initial hope began to turn into fear. If he didn’t make himself know fast, Max might never find him. After all, he would hate for Max to come all this way and leave empty-handed. He buried his face in his one free hand. He hated to do it but better to die of embarrassment, than remain in Garrus 9 forever. With a deep sigh of resignation, Prowl turned on his sirens full blast.

He shut his optics against the flashing blue and red lights, brilliant in the oppressive darkness. The shrill wail of his sirens echoed in the confined space. He didn’t mind them so much in vehicle mode, but Prowl absolutely hated using his sirens in bot mode. When he was surprised, sometimes the sirens chirped involuntarily, which mortified Prowl to no end. Of course once Jazz uncovered this knowledge, it became his favorite past time.

“Oh Primus! Prowl! Are you in there?” Max yelled. “

“Yeah!” Prowl coughed, turning off the sirens. “I’m stuck.”

“Sirens, huh? It must be bad.”

“Well,” Prowl coughed again, “it’s not great.”

“Red! I found him! Tell Cerebros to prep the shuttle medibay.”

So, everyone was looking for him, even Red. Guess there’s no accounting for taste after all. 

“Prowl, don’t worry, I’m going to get you out of there!” The concern in Max’s voice caused Prowl’s vents to hitch. 

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I should make a crack about digging you out taking about three years,” Max grunted as he began to move large chunks of debris, “but I won’t, because I’m better than that.”

“Now that’s true friendship,” Prowl deadpanned. It came across as sarcastic, but he sincerely meant it, besides he more than earned that type of comment.

“Yeah it is. I hope you’re taking notes. This is what friends do, you show up for each other, not just when it’s easy or convenient, but when it’s really, really difficult.”

Prowl felt the rubble shift as Max worked furiously to dig him out. Something fell off the pile and hit the ground with a dull clang. Prowl heard the distinct whine of a t-cog starting to engage and realized with shock that Max was struggling to remain in bot mode. If he turns into a tank while digging through the debris, he could cause more structural damage, burying them both. 

“Max!” Prowl yelled, trying to keep even tone. “I need you to listen to me. I need to talk to you, to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone else.”

The t-cog sound dissipated as Max shuddered, “Okay, I’m listening.”

Prowl smiled. Good. Keep Max focused on anything other than whatever nightmare that sound triggered. “Do you know why I still hang around with the Constructicons?”

“No.” Max replied as the sound of digging continued.

“Well, having control of Devastator is a real asset. To become so big and powerful, I mean there are so many possibilities for such strength.”

“Primus, Prowl.” Max huffed, “You said you wanted to talk to me, not lie to me.”

“What?”

“That’s a load of rust wash and you know it. Does anybody actually believe that?”

“Everyone I’ve ever told.” Prowl fought the urge to break down right there, debris slowly pressing in on all sides, with the one bot to ever truly see through his façade working so hard to save him. The very same bot he abandoned to torment because he thought the risk of rescue was too high. “You’d have known,” he whispered.

“Known what?” 

Scrap! How did Max hear that through tons of twisted metal? Well, at least Max seems more focused. He started this conversation to distract Max, might as well go all in. “You’d have known when Bombshell hijacked my mind. I said things, did things, that I never would have under normal circumstances. Nobody even suspected, not even when I showed up with all the heavy upgrades.”

“Yeah, that should’ve tipped everyone off, you always loved your sleek frame.” Max heaved more debris aside, he was finally getting close. “A little too much if you ask me.”

“Exactly. Look, I have no right to talk to you about torture, but having to watch helplessly, trapped in my own mind, while the decepticons altered my frame, used my body to carry out their own plans…” Prowl trailed off. He never told anyone about his experience with Bombshell before. Sure everyone knew what happened, but he never talked about it. He didn’t really have any friends left to talk to.

Before he could continue a beam of light filtered through the rapidly thinning rumble. Max threw the last chunks of debris aside, finally uncovering Prowl.

“You look terrible,” Max said as he evaluated the best way to extricate Prowl from the tangled rebar.

“You should talk,” the corner of Prowl’s mouth tugged upwards. A fine layer of dust coated Max’s entire frame.

“I can see why you broke down and used the sirens. Brace yourself, this is probably going to hurt,” Max warned him.

Max positioned himself and carefully lifted Prowl straight up off of the rebar spikes. Prowl shuttered his optics and clenched his teeth but still screamed as the bits of metal tugged then finally slid out. He shuddered, felt his own vent fans overheating and began to tremble all over. Maybe he underestimated the extent of his injuries. Max gently gathered him into his massive arms and held him close.

“Take it easy, I’ve got you. That was definitely the worst part.”

No wonder that turbo fox fell asleep when Max picked it up. The soothing hum of Max’s large engine combined with the comfortable strength in his arms was enough to help even Prowl relax. As he slowly recovered from his state of shock, Prowl realized that this was probably the safest he’s felt since the war began. Max had such an amiable nature. He still didn’t understand it, but it made Prowl so inexpressibly happy that he had at least one true friend. It was far more than he deserved.  
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬-_____________________________________________________________________________________

Max felt a twinge of guilt as he extricated Prowl from the rubble. After all, Max was pretty sure he and Spinister caused the collapse. Maybe he did panic and fire a barrage of missiles down a dark empty hallway, but Prowl wasn’t supposed to be in the room directly above it. He felt even worse when he recalled all the times he dreamed about punching Prowl right in his stupid face for stranding him here. At least he was in one piece… more or less. 

“Keep pressure here,” Max instructed, placing Prowl’s hand over the puncture wound in his side. “I’ll need both my hands to carry you and I’d prefer it if your energon stayed inside you instead of all over me.”

“I think I would prefer that too,” Prowl replied with a weak smile, wincing as he followed Max’s instructions. “You don’t have to carry me, I’m… heavier… than I used to be.”

“Pfft! Please!” Max ignored Prowl’s protests as he scooped him up. “Even with the upgrades, I am still five times your size, easy.”

“Hmm… maybe only four times.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” Max smiled as he carefully worked his way back up the pile of debris that he had cast aside to free Prowl. The loose gravel shifted beneath his heavy steps, but he never lost his balance. Prowl hadn’t looked at him since he pulled him free. Perhaps he suspected the reason behind the explosions. Max didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but that was no excuse. He was just about to apologize when he finally felt Prowl’s piercing blue optics on him. 

“I never should have left you,” he mumbled.

“What?” Max asked, partially put of shock and partially because of the low volume of his voice.

“I knew things were bad, but I had no idea how bad. I should have done something.” Prowl turned away again and curled a little tighter in Max’s grasp.

Reaching the top of the tangled mass of debris, a terrible realization dawned on Max, “Prowl,” he began slowly, “How much did you see?”

“Enough.”

Back on the solid, undamaged floor, Max froze. His engine began to rev and his temper flared. “You watched the surveillance footage! Why would you do that!?” Max yelled. The thought of someone else watching video of Overlord carving him into pieces simultaneously infuriated and terrified him. It also took control of his experience away from Max. If recordings exist, he could no longer curate his memories, deciding what to talk about and when. He fought the overwhelming urge to drop Prowl in a mangled heap right back down the hole he dug him out of.

“I had to understand why you hated me.” Prowl replied quietly.

“I was angry and hurt, but I didn’t hate you. Although,” Max grumbled, “You are making a very strong case for the latter right now.” Max started walking again just to remove himself from the growing temptation to toss Prowl back into the rubble. “What did you do with the data?”

“I destroyed it.”

“I can’t believe you…” Max trailed off before actually comprehending Prowl’s words. “ Wait… what!?” Max stammered in disbelief. Prowl would never willing destroy any information, especially something that might have some type of strategic value.

“I destroyed all of it, every last byte, the main computer console and even the copy that I made. It’s all gone.”

“You? Who keep copies of even the most insignificant note from your earliest days on the force? You destroyed years of surveillance footage?” Max searched Prowl’s face for any hint of a lie, but found none.

“It was the very least that I could do.”

Max felt instantly lighter, like a burden he didn’t even realize was pressing down on his spark had been lifted. Rung had tried to help him work past feelings that he was somehow responsible for his torture, but they still remained. If only he’s been strong enough he could have saved others, saved himself. Like somehow the brutality he endured was due to some failure on his part instead of the pure sadism of Overlord. He secretly dreaded the recovery of that data, of the remotest possibility that he might one day have to watch what he’d survived.

Max knew Prowl never went anywhere without a plan. Since he insisted on accompanying Max to Garrus 9, he must have planned to destroy the data all along. “Prowl, I don’t know if I can express how much that means to me… Thank you.”

“Well, I…” Prowl began with a hopeful light in his optics when sound of sliding rubble echoed in the darkness behind them. Max flinched and instinctively curled protectively around Prowl as if expecting a blow from some unseen assailant. The quick movement jostled Prowl’s injuries and he cried out in pain. Max winced, but before he could apologize, Prowl cut him off, “Remember I promised to tell you about why I still keep in touch with the Constructicons?”

“Yeah,” Max sighed with relief. He understood what Prowl was up to, intentionally redirecting his attention on anything other than Garrus 9. It was a surprisingly caring gesture, and Max readily accepted the offered distraction, “You gonna tell me the truth this time?”

“The truth is,” Prowl began with a sheepish grin, “that they totally and unconditionally adore me, and I kinda like that feeling.”

“What?” Max had considered a lot of different possibilities, but nothing like this one. The idea of cold calculating Prowl enjoying the open admiration of a group of the roughest yet simplest bots in history was too absurd to be anything but the honest truth. No wonder Prowl lied to everyone about it.

“I am dead serious.”

“Are you ever anything but?” Max teased.

“I mean it, using the term ‘worship’ would not be an exaggeration at all. They were pawns in Bombshell’s scheme as well. In fact, on our first forced combination, they were all in deep mourning for Scrapper, their original sixth member who was murdered on earth. Despite their own discomfort, they actually worked to make the process easier for me.”

“So even when you are not combined…”

“They still completely idolize me. One time, they offered to paint me Constructicon green, which I naturally refused. A short time later, I received a frantic call from Tracks’ body shop, all five Constructicons wanted painted black and white. I had to go down there and personally convince them to keep their original colors.”

“So the #1 BOSS mug?” Max asked with smile.

“Utterly sincere and 100% unironic,” Prowl answered with a smile of his own. “I had to practically hold them back from defending my honor against Ultra Magnus when he scolded me for doing my job a little too effectively.”

“They were gonna take on Mags for you?” Max laughed.

Prowl nodded, “I know I probably shouldn’t encourage them, but how could I refuse such devotion? They may be deadly, but it’s also really endearing.”

“When we get you patched up, why don’t you invite them over to Luna 1 for a visit?”

“Are you serious? Nobody likes those bots.”

“Nobody likes you either, but we put up with you. I’d love to meet the world’s most dangerous fan club. Besides,” Max added with a mischievous grin, “it will be worth it to see the look on Red’s face.”

“And people call me the devious one.”

Another step finally brought Max and Prowl out of the main prison complex and back to the hanger. Max blinked his optics in the brightness, talking to Prowl went better than expected. In fact he hadn’t even realized how far they had traveled. A wave of relief rolled over Max as he heard the steady hum of his shuttle’s engines, primed and ready for takeoff.

“We’re all set to get out of here,” Red yelled as approached the open shuttle bay doors. “You look terrible by the way.”

“Thanks,” Prowl grumbled, “So I’ve been told.”

Red narrowed his optics, “I was talking to Max.”

Prowl returned his glare, “It’s good to see you too, Red.”

“I’ll take this burden off your hands, Max. We gave most of our supplies to the Scavengers since they were heading for a fight so we’ll have to get back to Luna 1 as soon as possible. If you pilot the ship, I’ll take care of Prowl. Cerebros prepared the little that we have left to make him as comfortable as possible for the return home.”

Max gently lowered Prowl on to he own feet. Red quickly wrapped one arm around his waist while Prowl threw his arm over Red’s shoulder. Together they limped into the medibay while Max took the pilot’s chair. He slowly engaged the throttle and the ship rose away from the prison. Max fought the urge to fire all of his ship’s weapons and burn the place to the ground. Just in case the Scavengers needed to escape Scorponok using his teleportation door again, he wanted to leave their route clear. Setting coordinates for home he listened to his crew bickering.

“Oh Primus!” Cerebros gasped when he saw Prowl. “You look terrible.” Prowl just groaned but Red Alert burst into laughter.

Cerebros got to work stabilizing Prowl’s injuries. “You need more energon, but I already used the small supply we saved. Don’t worry, we have plenty back at base.”

“We have plenty here,” Red thumped his chest plate. 

“You would donate fuel for me?” Prowl asked confused. 

“Whatever,” Red blushed slightly and scratched the back of his helm. “It’s not like I actually worry about you or anything. Max went through a lot of trouble to rescue you and I wouldn’t want it to go to waste or anything.”

“Right,” Prowl shifted his weight, trying to find a less painful position on the undersized recharge slab. “Well, I certainly do appreciate everything ‘Max’ has done for me so far.”

As Cerebros connected the fuel transfer hoses, the shuttle’s comm system chirped an alert for an incoming message from an unknown source. Max sighed and contemplated ignoring the signal, after everything that had happened today, he was physically and mentally exhausted. However, he was still the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, and it might be important. He put the system on speaker so the rest of the crew could listen.

“This is Fortress Maximus, please state your business.” 

There was a squeak of surprise then the muffled crackle of someone holding their hand over the microphone. “Oh Primus, Fulcrum! He actually answered!”

“What did you expect, Misfire? You called his direct number!” Fulcrum hissed.

“I just wanted to know for sure. I’ve had bots give me their frequency but when I called it, I got the circuit speeders addiction hotline.”

“I can’t imagine why someone would give you a decoy number.”

“Misfire, is that you?” Max asked, “What’s going on?”

“Scrap! Scrap! Scrap! He can hear us!”

“Of course he can, you lugnut! You left the channel open! Hurry and hang up before Spin finds out!”

“Before I find out what?”

“Ahhhh! Spin! What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know. What are you doing here? Wait a minute! That’s the note that Max gave me! It was in my pocket! How did you get it?” Spin shouted angrily.

“Now, Now! What’s a little petty theft between friends. We’re just looking out for you.”

“Leave me out of this!” Fulcrum pleaded.

“Give that back right now!! It’s important!”

The distinct whirl of a t-cog filled the airwaves followed by the rush of wind and possibly gunfire just before the transmission cut off. Max leaned back in the pilots chair and shook him head. What did he get himself into?

“What… was… that?” Prowl asked.

“That,” Red answered with a smirk, “Is the decepticon that Max is dating.”

“What?!” Prowl nearly fell off the recharge slab.

“We are not dating,” Max stated. “At least not yet,” he added with a wink. A moment of shocked silence preceded an explosion of chatter when all three of his companions started talking at once. Max just laughed and let them rant and rave. Adjusting the shuttle’s flight path, he began to hum a tune that was stuck in his head, just snatches of an incomplete song. Maybe he would learn the rest of it someday but for today a few broken pieces were all he needed.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both the Scavengers and the Constructicons show up for a visit on Luna 1 at the same time. Gratuitous silliness ensues.

A thunderous crash awoke Fort Max. All his systems snapped online in an instant as he fell off the recharge slab. Sitting up on the floor, he allowed himself a satisfied smile. Despite the unexpected circumstances, he woke up in bot mode, another full rest cycle free of t-cog triggering nightmares. Sometimes he still woke up as a tank, having transformed during some horrible dream, but those nights have become less frequent since his return from his mission to Garrus 9. Well, all the company helped too. When both the Scavengers and the Constructicons showed up on Luna 1 at the same time, Red Alert practically burst into flames and Prowl nearly died of laughter. 

Another series of bangs rattled the windows in his hab suite. Max shook his head to clear his thoughts and slowly rose to his feet. What was it this time? Suddenly a frantic purple helicopter burst through his door.

“Max we need you!” Spinister yelled.

“Spin! Slow down! What did we talk about last time?”

“Knocking! I know, but this is an emergency!”

Max sighed, “Alright, tell me what’s going on out there.” 

“There’s no time!” Spin shouted as he raced across the room and threw open the large windows.

Max folded his arms across his chest, “I am not jumping out a window with you again, until you explain what this is about.”

“Ugh! Fine!” Spin threw his head back and moaned. “We are playing a game of Shoot Shoot Bang Bang against the Constructicons. Everyone except Crankcase and Red Alert, they are sharing some Camien engex and probably complaining about the rest of us. Anyways, we were totally winning! Then the Constructicons went and got their secret weapon, and now they are Devastator.”

“Wait, Prowl is their secret weapon?” Max asked.

“Yeah, they really, really love that bot, like so much,” Spin nodded. “That’s why you are my secret weapon! Now come one let’s go!” Spin grabbed Max’s hand and tugged him towards the open window. 

“So…” Max persisted, “a secret weapon is a bot that you really like?”

“Of course,” Spin stated, “because with them by your side you can do anything.”

Max smiled and allowed Spin to pull him across the room. Outside a scene of pure chaos unfolded. The rest of the Scavengers scattered while Outrigger stood on the shoulder of a dead titan and admonished Devastator to be mindful about causing too much collateral damage. Apparently the loud crashes were due to the combiner hopping around to avoid Grimlock spitting fire at his feet. And where did Devastator get a foam dart gun big enough for him to use?

“Hey, Devastator!” Max shouted from his window. “As Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, I must inform you that using a combined form in Shoot Shoot Bang Bang qualifies as cheating.”

Devastator turned towards Max with a smirk, “It not cheating if Devastator win!”

“That’s Prowl alright,” Max muttered before hollering, “If that’s how it is, then you’re going down! We’re winning this game and then you’re gonna clean up the mess you made!”

“Devastator like to see you try, have best strategy, best boss ever!” the gestalt laughed.

“Now?” Spin asked, bouncing with excitement.

“Now,” Max bowed and swept his arm towards the open window, “after you!”

Spinister dove out the window and transformed into helicopter mode midair. He hovered slightly above the window and waited patiently. Max snatched the foam gun that Misfire had gifted him for just such an occasion and climbed up onto the window sill. If someone had told him that one day he would be jumping out his window with a quirky attack helicopter to shoot foam darts at Devastator, he would have arrested them on suspicion of abusing illegal substances. When he tried to explain it, life on Luna 1 sounds like sheer lunacy, but somehow it just works and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being longer than expected but I liked the way it turned out!
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading as well as your kudos and comments!


End file.
